n what most are calling an incredibly tight no-way race, as in "no way are any of these guys going to be president," all Democratic candidates are finding themselves beaten in Iowa Democratic Caucus polls by a write-in vote for the candidate known as only "Not Bush."

Though vagaries in the caucus system make polling unreliable, the most reliable polls show clearly the "Not Bush" candidate leading the way far ahead of the pack of current Democrats. Representatives of the Iowa caucus said they spent three days searching for the lead candidate before realizing it was not an actual person, merely a vote rejecting a supposed actual person.

Early poll results show the runner-up position still being a no-way battle between national frontrunner Howard Dean, Sen. Dick Gephardt, Sen. John Kerry, Sen. John Edwards, or possibly another person altogether. With all four candidates concentrating their attention on winning over undecided Iowa voters, Dean and Gephardt pulled their negative ads to focus on a more positive way to say the other candidates suck, while Kerry and Edwards both inched forward in the polls, oblivious to the fact there's no way either would ever be elected president. Running behind those four Democrats were Gen. Wesley Clark, Sen. Joe Lieberman, Sen. Carol Mosley Braun (who pulled out of the race earlier in the week), Sen. Bob Graham (who pulled out of the race months ago), a candidate known as "Not Sharpton," Al Gore (who isn't even running), Al Sharpton, and finally, Dennis Kucinich.

Iowa caucus expert Henry "Iowa" Jones felt the numbers would be representative of Iowa's opinion of the Democratic candidates, and expressed a national dissatisfaction with its political choices.

"The American people have fervently and decidedly said they do not want George Bush for their president, if these polls are any indication," said Jones. "However, we rolled out candidates that we here in Iowa would call, 'real dillies.' You can sort of see the American people collectively wincing and asking, 'Okay. Are these my only choices?'"

Jones further elaborated, when asked to fill column space. "It's quite a simple quandary. In layman's terms, the American people are hungry, but nothing we've suggested sounds good. They're not quite sure what they exactly want, but it's very likely not anything we've offered. Like saying, 'Seafood? Italian? Mexican?' And the American people are starting to think they'd rather just stay in and crack open a bag of chips, politically speaking."

However, though the news is good for no one, it's not bad for everyone. In particular, little-known independent presidential candidate Lyle Woodman stands to benefit greatly if the polls truly show how people will cast their votes in the national elections. At least, Woodman will benefit once he finishes the legal process of changing his name to "Not Bush" in October, 2004.

"I had a feeling 'Not Bush' would be a name with a lot of political weight back when I was watching the 2000 presidential election," said Woodman, tentatively referring to himself as Not. "In fact, if I remember correctly, Not Bush won in a very, very close race against the Republican candidate, Not Gore."

merica's beloved Hitler Youth Arnold Schwarzenegger stunned the largely-Jewish world of Hollywood Friday with the announcement he would be asking an astounding $99.1 billion price tag for his next film. Schwarzenegger, whose last film Terminator 3 made a worldwide total of $366 million, would become the highest paid actor in Hollywood and the richest person to ever breathe on the planet.

The large tub of muscle defended his announcement, which followed an earlier press conference declaring a 2004 budget of $99.1 billion for the state of California. Schwarzenegger's new film price tag would not only guarantee the appearance of the actor in the movie, but help dig the state of California out of debt. As a bonus, the governor promised a red-tape free unlimited filming permit for the studio's film crew and the use of every Californian and his or her home for production purposes.

"It is a great deal, to think of it," said the actor, mangling the language in his usual adorable style. "To hire Arnold Schwarzenegger is to hire California. To put in a film the beautiful beaches of the state, and to film everywhere from Simi Valley to Silicon Valley. And other Valleys. Arnold Schwarzenegger is pulling together for California, and as your governor Arnold Schwarzenegger asks for every Californian to pull together for California."

The projected 2004 budget of $99.1 billion would cut millions from public health and welfare programs without raising taxes, would raise state park fees and college tuition across the state, and is built on a prediction of a gain of $2.9 billion in imaginary tax revenue. Presumably, the prospect of making California more friendly to producers who want to make a really expensive Schwarzenegger movie would create a major influx of tax money.

Besides being ridiculed as financial hari kari, Schwarzenegger's new price tag is being criticized for forcing Californians to open their homes, as well as public and private lands, to Hollywood film crews, and requiring all Californians to appear in at least one scene in a non-speaking role in the film as part of the agreement to justify the actor's high paycheck. The governor, smiling with his frightening shark teeth, dismissed the critics.

"There are people who do not want to do what is necessary to clean up the mess of all the politicians who made the mess of California. It is hard to understand what their problem is. I am the one doing all of the hardwork. I have thirty, maybe forty lines of dialogue per film. I will have to speak them. I will be the one having to make the hard faces. All the rest of the people can just stand there in the background and be quiet."

Schwarzenegger added, "Plus, I will be doing all of my own stunts. No stunt men required. Come and see the new movie to see Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger doing the dangerous stunts. I will fight the robots or all the men in costumes. I will even pretend at being gay, for comedy film. Come to see the Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger in the comedy movie to make you laugh. And help California."

The governor personally guaranteed the film would earn back all money invested, help clear California's $14 billion deficit, and launch a successful movie franchise. If the plan is successful, Schwarzenegger said he would consider doing more independent films at a fee of $3 billion each in hopes of starting a re-election fund.

Here's something that'll get you thinking, talk about a "Mr Rogers was a sniper in 'Nam"-level surprise. Thanks to commune editor's-brother Gay Bagel's mandate that we boost commune readership and revenue up from absolute zero Kelvin in 2004, it's been officially mandated by the powers obese that I quit writing about my epic saga to get a goddamned car. Apparently Bagay (as I like to call him in print and roadside graffiti) thinks my column may be alienating readers who are too rich to ever have to worry about not having a car, and if they don't read the site we can't siphon their accounts dry of funds electronically while they surf.

I don't know the details, if that's just advertising lingo or if we're actually hoovering out bank notes over the telephone line while those poor rich saps try to figure out what in the hell Boris Utzov is talking about or what. But either way Bagay thinks we've catered to the Salisbury steak set too much in the past, when we should be writing for dudes who order off the menu at Taco Bell and use silver spoons to eat their civet cat pudding.

Normally I'd have my ass chapped by the man giving my creative freedom a titty-twister like that, but from what I hear most of the staff received similar warnings. From the mandate that Lil Duncan start banging celebrity scumbags instead of her usual unknown variety, to the new "no accepting collect calls from international jails" rule (AKA the Ivan Nacutchacokov Accord), everyone around here is feeling the pinch. Except of course for Rok Finger, who got a slightly different haircut and left town, Truman Prudy, who makes appearances here like he was Haley's comet, and the aforementioned Boris Utzov, who from last word was riding bitch on a Harley somewhere in the Dakotas. Or, for that matter, Stu Umbrage, who's writing a gripe calendar in New Mexico, or Sampson L. Hartwig, who's either dead or a big fan of Harry Houdini. Come to think of it, where in the hell is everybody? This place is starting to look like Stuart Anderson's on Mad Cow night. What am I still doing here?

Anyway, the upshot of the whole censorship deal is that I'm getting a "company car," by which they mean Red Bagel's old Camry that he won't drive anymore because he thinks it's bugged. Which I guess is a problem if you're Red Bagel and you say embarrassing shit all the time, but what do I care? The old Bricksmobile had a megaphone for karaoke purposes; this'l be like having my own radio station. Plus since it is Red Bagel we're talking about here, odds are they're not even listening-device-type bugs, the car's probably infested with robotic insects or some shit as a little "fuck you" from the CIA or the Shriners.

All in all it's an uncharacteristically sweet deal for a commune employee, I would have been less surprised to get a post-it note on my desk saying that I AM the new company car. Now I guess Bagel and I are even from the time he ate my carrier pigeon.

Not that I'm getting carried away or anything, after all, it is a Camry. Not exactly a street-illegal funnycar or anything bitchin' like that. And Bagel didn't exactly take care of it after he uncovered the SUV conspiracy and bought himself that armored duck tours truck he drives around town. As a matter of fact, Gay pulled the thing out of a line-up of "bugged" cars Red planned on monster trucking over, replacing it with Raoul Dunkin's Tercel so his brother wouldn't notice. But I don't give a shit about any of that. It's got four wheels and it rolls both downhill and up, so Omar Bricks is calling it a car. Plus I've already replaced the Camry nameplate with one I pried off a Jaguar at the airport, so the stupid 90% of the world already thinks I drive a Jag. The right seat covers and a press-on spoiler should fool the rest.

Bricks out.

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